Of Spiders and Tigers
by VenusJay
Summary: An examination of the interactions between Sebastian Moran and James Moriarty. I'll rate it M just be on the safe side.
1. Chapter 1

"What do you need me to do first?"

I looked up from my phone at him, already irritated by his presence.

"Leave."

He did. I stared at the door he had just exited through and let out a short laugh.

I had expected him to ask 'Where to, why, what?' He didn't. I liked that.


	2. Chapter 2

"What are these for?"

He watched me carefully, wary of asking too many questions for fear that he would annoy me.

"Your new flat, it's the penthouse. The address is in the envelope."

He gave nothing more than a brief nod and I found myself hoping for more of a reaction.

"Can't have my sniper living in squalor now can I?"

Once more he only gave a brief nod in recognition.

I gave up.

"Get out of my office."


	3. Chapter 3

Some mornings it was amusing to me to imagine Sebastian getting ready in the morning. It was inaccurate to say 'getting ready'. He was always ready. Always.

I would wake up and and put on one of my prized suits, checking my appearance to ensure perfection, the comb placed back onto the marble worktop just so. I would have one cup of a bittersweet Brazilian coffee with a hint of cream in it. My shoes would be polished and perfectly tied in a double knot; everything timed with the balance and precision of an elaborate dance. It would be meticulous and thorough. Sebastian was meticulous in a roughed up, messy sense. Every hair delicately placed to appear effortless and unplanned. I knew better.

He would then move silently to the cupboard unit, I could feel him do it. I'd never seen him in his own flat but I knew exactly how is morning panned out. He would pull open the doors with relish and admire the collection of weaponry that it held, place there by myself to be used at his disposal. I could picture his low snarl at the tiger skin rug that I had placed in his living room as he gulped down his scalding, black coffee.

Then he would wait. Right before I would text him each day I would stand for a moment just to think about what he would be doing. I would laugh to myself and realise that he would be doing whatever he thought I wanted him to do.

It was strange that he should be so loyal and serving when he could so easily crush me, given his size, strength and speed. It seemed he was clever as well, clever enough at least to realise that he needed me.


	4. Chapter 4

Watching him was like nothing I had ever seen in my life. He was small and frail and yet people fell to his feet; crumbling and begging. Every movement he made was calculated, intentional. Moriarty simply did not create crime, he thrived upon it. Physically he could be crushed so easily, stamped out. Though no one ever came close enough to try. He was like a spider in that sense.

My eyes followed him as he made a casual circle around the man in the centre of the room. Well, the middle of the room, Moriarty was the centre of any room. The man was quivering and the tension in the room increased as the spider analysed the fly in his web.

"I asked you to do the simplest of tasks," he smiled. I never quite understood why he would spend so much time dancing around the core of things, being suave and charming to those he could annihilate. I had asked him once and been startled by the sheer ferocity of his laughter and the rapid change to something sultry and illustrious.

'You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar Sebby,' he had whispered with a sly smile.

"You've disappointed me Mr Johnson," he scolded. The man stared at his shows like some over-sized, admonished child.

"I tried everything I could Mr Moriarty," he stammered to the floor before looking up quickly in my direction. My finger pulled tighter on the trigger and he swallowed audibly.

"Oh now, now Sebby. This man is our guest," he laughed, entirely at ease in his own game.

"We don't shoot guests," he smiled at the man and he could be seen exhaling gently. He had relaxed, foolish man.

Even I felt a light chill as I witnessed the infamous stare. It was like receiving the black lotus flower or a horse's head in one's bed.

"No, no, no. Not this one," he sang. "That would be too kind," he hissed with venom. "Wouldn't it Mr Johnson," he laughed. "No, Seb. We simply wipe their bank accounts, delete their existence." That would be fun, don't you think?"

I admired that in him. He could simply kill the man and be done with him but he was more bloodthirsty than that. He wanted his family, his reputation and his entire life until date. He own everyone and everything.

"What do you mean," the man stammered.

"I mean you can go," Jim replied casually. "We're done here. You're employment has been terminated. The position has been filled," he muttered while searching through paperwork on his desk. The man stood, dumbfounded. Jim looked up with a cheeky grin.

"You're fired."

* * *

"So what happens now?"

"Hmm?"

"What happens to him, why didn't you just have him killed? What if he goes to the police?"

Moriarty looked up from his desk at me, giving me a steely glare while he considered my question.

"All in good time Sebastian. By the way, I have a job for you."

He slide a piece of paper across the desk with an address on it.

"Mrs Johnson should be home from her sewing class in an hour," he said nonchalantly, searching for a pen.

"You can leave the children," he gave a soft smile. "Unless he doesn't learn his lesson."

I stared at the piece of paper for a moment.

"Problem?"

"No Boss."

"Didn't think so."


End file.
